Isileth's Story: Day In The Life
by Rel Fexive
Summary: A series of short tales in the life of Isileth Adaar, Inquisitor, covering the ten years prior to the events at the Conclave and the rise of the Inquisition.


**THE DAY SHE LEFT**

* * *

Isileth tugged at her braid again, an unconscious nervous gesture that she stopped the moment she noticed it. Her pale hair had never been so short; pulled back over her ears and between her horns it was barely long enough to curl around her neck as far as the collarbone. But she had decided it had been too long for the journey ahead of her, and so now she had to live with the wreckage.

Pale green eyes looked back at her from the dark face in the imperfect mirror, the room that had been hers all of her life dimly visible behind her. Was she really ready to leave all that behind and follow a dream she had only the barest idea of how to attain? The young qunari woman in the mirror took a deep breath and rubbed at her eyes. The time for tears was over now the decision was made.

Isileth stood and pulled on the wyvern leather coat that had been a gift from her father a year before. Her pack went over one shoulder, quiver and arrows over the other. Tough leather boots and breeches, shirt and doublet, hood for bad weather. Travel gear made for her size. Her bow had been constructed by her father; the arrows she had made herself.

All that remained was to leave the room.

It was difficult, knowing it might be for the last time, but it had to be done. So she did it, walking resolutely to the kitchen to pick up the victuals she had prepared the night before. The house was modest, though one of the largest in the village. Most joked that it was because the family that lived there was the largest in the village as well, but it was mostly to accommodate the ovens.

Isileth's mother was at work in the kitchen, as she always was, as Isileth knew she would be. She could not be avoided, but in truth Isileth was glad. She would not have been able to leave without saying goodbye, whatever had already been said in the days before. The big ovens crackled with the sound of the fires below them and practically glowed with the heat emanating from the heavy metal doors.

In the qunari woman's hands the dough seemed tiny. It would rise into regular sized loaves of bread once baked, and others were already prepared for putting into the oven. A few larger ones, family sized, also awaited the next stage.

The baker had a look of contentment on her lined face that few saw. Most in the village only knew her as a taciturn giant – by their standards, at least, as Isileth's mother was a little shorter than most qunari – and often whispered about her cool demeanour and curling horns when they thought none of the Adaar family could hear them.

"Daughter," Yasemener said without looking up from her work. "The time has come, then?"

"Yes," Isileth replied, keeping her voice under control. It was not the time to crumble and fall, but to stand up straight and act on decisions already made. She slowly moved further into the kitchen in the direction of the table where she had laid out her cooking gear and supplies. The small pile had been supplemented with two small loaves, still warm, and some tiny sweet cakes that her mother knew she loved. Isileth closed her eyes for a moment before packing the supplies carefully in two small sacks that would be tied to her travelling pack.

Finished, Isileth turned and approached the main table where her mother worked. For a moment the kneading paused, then continued as the current loaf took form and was placed in a rectangular tin ready for the oven. Yasemener wiped her hands on a cloth before she looked her daughter in the eyes, eyes the same as her own but edged with lines, unlike the youthful gaze of Isileth.

"You've read all the books in the village," Yasemener said without preamble, "at least twice. You've heard every story and every history I know. And you want more." She smiled in sudden warmth. "You have my curiosity, child, but your father's love of wild, distant places. I fear this was inevitable." She shook her head. "Fear is not the right word, though I do fear for you. But it was inevitable."

Isileth's mother stepped around the table and gently touched cupped her daughter's face in both hands. Thumbs brushed away the tears that had just appeared.

"You know your own mind," Yasemener said, "and have decided your own path. You would not be my daughter if you did anything else." Isileth suddenly hugged her as if she would never let her go, but it was only for a moment – then she stepped back. Her mother soberly reached out and picked a piece of dough from her daughter's shirt front, where it had transferred from her apron during their brief embrace. "For later," she said, handing it to Isileth. They both laughed suddenly.

"Take care," Yasemener told her quietly. "There are... things afoot in the world. We have all heard the rumours of trouble in Ferelden, though it seems far away. And sometimes danger is... closer, and unexpected. I know you will be wary," she continued, holding up a hand to forestall Isileth's reply, "but I am your mother, and mothers worry."

"Something I am well aware of," Isileth said dryly.

"Go now," Yasemener instructed her, turning back to the table and walking around it. Isileth could see from the way she held herself that her mother was trying for a dignified send off. She had always been more expressive than most in the village ever knew but preferred to maintain a stoic bearing, especially following what was for her an emotional outburst. "You will be in our thoughts, always." She went back to work, kneading dough, and did not look up again as Isileth went out the door.

But as the door closed behind her, Isileth would have sworn she heard her mother choke back a sob.

The village was coming to life around her as Isileth walked down the main street. Farmers, labourers, craftsmen, and children of all ages running wild until their parents got them under control. A few of the adults frowned at her with all her gear, no doubt wondering where she was going. Other nodded or waved to her as she passed. Some of the smaller children followed her like they always did, though it was always down to curiosity rather than anything malicious. It had been different when she was as young as they were, but over time the strangeness of her size, dark skin and horns has become ordinary.

 _It might be the last time I see any of these people again_ , Isileth thought, passing through almost unremarked upon, even for the only young qunari many of them had even seen. The few friends she had had already made their farewells and were too busy at this time in the morning to see her off.

As she walked under the plain wooden arch that marked the 'entrance' to the village she slowed and stopped. She ran her hands over the wood, worn smooth from countless hands, keeping its stories to itself. She patted the upright beam and continued on her way. No one called out a farewell or wishes of good luck, but then few knew she was leaving for good.

The rough road through the fields soon passed under the boughs of the forest that bordered the next part of the territory that fell under the watchful eye of Ostwick's rulers. Isileth could just hear the distant sounds of woodcutters swinging their axes under the hissing of the leaves in the wind and the fluttering and scuttling of the wildlife.

She knew he was there just before he stepped into view. Isileth knew he had done that on purpose; otherwise she would never have known he was there at all. Tall, even taller than her, but wiry and nimble rather than bulky like most imagined all male qunari to be. He was decked out in the colours of the forest with brown vitaar of his own design marking his long, narrow face. The bow in his hand was a thing of beauty and exquisite craftsmanship.

"Asak," Isileth greeted him. He never liked to be addressed any other way, and certainly not as 'father' or 'daddy'. He had a well-earned reputation in the village for being especially strange, spending most of his time hunting in the forest and further afield. Isileth had realised years before that it was simply that he was uncomfortable around large groups of people. With his family, or accompanying other hunters, he was talkative but still distant. He always used names, never titles or the like, but Yasemener he always addressed as 'Wife'. Only she and Isileth recognised the deep emotion he conveyed with that simple word.

"Isileth." His reply was curt, but not unkind. "It is today?"

"Yes."

"You will remember all that Yasemener and I have taught you." It was a statement rather than a question. Isileth nodded; there was never any arguing with him. He stepped closer, hooking his bow over the quiver on his back. "It is a long way to go to find what you search for," he told her softly. "But I know you will find it."

"I hope so," Isileth replied around the knot in her throat. As much as she loved her mother, she had always felt closer to this strange man who loved the wilderness so much. He had taught her to use her first bow, to fight with knives, to hunt and move unseen. He had shown her sights in the forest no one else had seen; trees twisted by old magic, the weathered remains of soldiers in some unmarked battle, a ruined tower brought down by time and fire.

"You hunt to feed your mind," he said, "if you want to be poetic about it." His smile was a rare and momentary thing. "I just feed my family." Suddenly he gripped Isileth by the shoulders and looked at her intently. "Know that I am proud of you... daughter." Isileth gaped – she could count the number of times he had called her that on one hand. "Use what we have taught you and we will always be with you." Asak stepped back and let his arms fall to his sides. "And when we think of you... you will be with us."

Her father turned and loped into the forest, and was soon lost among the trees.

Isileth's hands were shaking so she bunched them into fists and took several deep breaths to calm herself, then took a long drink from her water bottle. She found herself toying with her braid again and forced herself to stop.

Then Isileth walked on without a backward glance and left the village of Aldmerrow, and her family, behind.


End file.
